


Dungeons and Dragon Wardens

by DragonsBeHere



Category: Knightmare - All Media Types
Genre: Dragons, Geek Week episode compliant, Gen, Level 3, Not Beta Read, POV Second Person, Purely for my own pleasure, The Author Regrets Nothing, like the gamebooks, the dragon and warden are called Damien and Eloise respectively
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsBeHere/pseuds/DragonsBeHere
Summary: Deep in Level three, you accidentally awaken an angry dragon. Luckily, you are not alone...
Kudos: 3





	Dungeons and Dragon Wardens

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is DragonsBeHere from the forums. I am very sorry if my inaccuracies offend you, but I have no regrets.

It’s very dark. Dark, like night, with only flickering torchlight cutting through the room. It is incredibly warm compared to the cool earthen chambers before this. A few steps before you is a massive pit, who’s depth you cannot fathom, not even in fathoms. You can see an exit in the form of an elaborate stone arch to the left, but you still feel like there’s more to this room than it seems.

Suddenly, you grow aware of a rumble. A long, low groan shaking the cavern. Instinctively, you put your hands over your head, forgetting about the helmet that already shields it. Your fears are not unfounded however, as dust rains down from the ceiling, getting into your lungs and making you wheeze. All of a sudden the noise stops.

You freeze. Did it hear you? Not that you know what ‘it’ is.

Nothing appears to be happening, so you look around further. Your eyes must have adjusted, as you can see the bottom of the pit. Or maybe not fully adjusted, as it almost looks like rising.

Oh dear.  
It is rising.

The horns come out first, tall and curved and wickedly sharp. They are soon followed by thick, plate-like ridges that trail downwards. Next, eyes like flames followed by a long, rounded snout, smoke wafting from diamond shaped nostrils. You realise, all to late, why it is so hot in here.

You’re face to face with a dragon.

You always thought the stories exaggerated the size. Surely nothing could be that big. But now those tales are grossly under-exaggerated. It nearly filled the room, and this is merely its head. It opens its mouth, revealing teeth like cutlasses, and you realise it’s about to speak.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” It pauses, as if waiting for an answer, so you chime in.

“I – I’m a dungeoneer, Mr Dragon, sir.” You regret it instantly. Not only do you sound like a snivelling coward, but you have run the risk of misgendering it. If you were wrong, it will feel justified to fry you. You take a second glance at the vermilion scales and gulp. If what you’ve heard about Red Dragons is true, then it might fry you anyway.

But to your surprise, it only laughs, “Oh, a feeble little kidsy, hiding under their helmet. You must have done well to get this deep.” You relax slightly as he (it must be a he, otherwise you’d be dead) flashes you a grin. This feeling is soon swamped with terror as he finishes with, “Which is why it is such a shame I’m going to have to kill you.” 

The chamber suddenly grows unbearably hot, and you can see an ominous orange glow build up in the back of the dragon’s throat. Desperately, you scramble for a plan.   
"Wait! Would you like a Firestone?"   
"Do you have a Firestone?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.   
"No." In fact your hands are empty.   
"Then you will die faster for your impertinence!"  
Just when you've resigned yourself to your fiery demise, a loud, clear voice calls out from the shadows.

“Spellcasting: S L E E P!”

Almost instantly, the dragon’s eyes begin to droop. The flames are extinguished by a yawn that, if it weren’t for the protective power of the helmet, would deafen you. The head starts sinking into the pit as the dragon lets out a pitiful moan.

“Aw, not fair! I should tear your eyes out for this. Bite your legs off. Snip your… Snip your…”  
With the last threat left uncompleted, the dragon is gone from view and a faint snoring fills the room. You glance around for your saviour.

Out of the gloom, a young woman with hair like the night steps forward. Her face is obscured by a half-mask, and a hint of raw, red flesh around the edges indicates why. She sees you looking and scowls. 

“Look what you did! You can’t go around waking dragons, especially one with a murderess disposition like Damien! Who knows what would have happened if he had got free?”

You can't help but ask, “Damien?”

“I didn’t name him?” She snipes. There is a brief pause, so you decide to introduce yourself.

“My name is-”

“Oh I know who you are. The upper levels are buzzing about you. The best dungeoneer we’ve had in six years, they say.” She sounds doubtful, and you agree with her. You are, after all, the only dungeoneer there’s been in six years. “Well, since I know who you are, you might as well know who I am.” She extended a hand. “I am Eloise of the Airwan and-”

“You’re a Dragon Warden?” You interrupt, “I thought you were all blonde?" She glares at you, and you quickly continue, "That means your part of the Powers That Be.”

Eloise laughs, a low, bitter chuckle, “Dragon Wardens have no part in the Powers That Be. But then again, we are no friends of the Opposition.”

“Why don’t you pick a side?”

“Because they have both committed grievous crimes against dragon kind. The Opposition has crimes of both the attempted assassination of the primary member an endangered species, and experimentation without consent. And as for your friend Treguard, well, just ask him why his sword is called Wrymslayer.  
"The only reason we helped before was because, as I said, Great Crested Greens are rare indeed.”

You nod slowly, “I understand.”

For the first time, Eloise smiles, “If dungeoneering doesn’t work out, you’d make a good Warden. Now off you go!”

“Wait!” You say, “Do you have any advice?” 

“Eat your greens!” And with that, she gives you a firm shove through the door, and as you pass into the next chamber, you wonder what the point was.

**Author's Note:**

> It never sat well with me that the Airwan would ever willingly associate themselves with someone who at that point had killed two (2) dragons. RIP, Bealwit and the Red Death.


End file.
